Tea and Angry Biscuits
by CaffieneKitty
Summary: By the time John got himself down the stairs he should have known Mrs Hudson would have abducted Lestrade.


**Original Postings: AO3 and LiveJournal, July 12, 2016**  
 **Content:** tea, injuries, broken limbs, mothering, team as family, Mrs Hudson is awesome  
 **Disclaimer:** Not my world.  
 **Notes:** Written for LJ Comm **watsons_woes** July Writing Prompt #11: Trio. John and two characters who aren't Sherlock interacting closely.

-.-

 **Tea and Angry Biscuits**  
-.-

By the time John got himself down the stairs he should have known Mrs Hudson would have abducted Lestrade. He knocked at the door of 221A.

"Ooo, that'll be John. Come in, dear!"

Turning the knob right-handed, John entered and was treated to the sight of Inspector Lestrade sitting sideways at Mrs Hudson's kitchen table, leg in its full-length cast stuck awkwardly out in front of him, crutches propped against the drying rack. He held a steaming mug of tea and was looking quite bemused.

"Greg." John nodded a greeting. "How's the leg?"

"Fine, fine," Lestrade said, glancing in the direction of Mrs Hudson. "How's your arm?" he said, with a warning note in his voice.

John took the warning. _She's either in full mothering mode, or she's on the warpath._ "Ah, it's... fine," he said, gingerly waggling the elbow of his cast.

Really, the dislocated left shoulder and cracked humerus was a hellish misery, the cast itched like fury already, using his right hand for everything was a bloody chore, and John was taking so many painkillers he felt he might rattle. However if Mrs Hudson was in mothering/warpath mode, John didn't dare say any of that.

He cleared his throat and spoke in Mrs Hudson's direction. "Thanks for letting Inspector Lestrade in, Mrs Hudson, but you didn't need-"

"'Course I 'needed'." Mrs Hudson bustled over with a clean mug and a pot of tea. "You boys have been to the wars! Wouldn't be right to have you both hanging about in the hall for your chat. Have a nice sit down and a cuppa." She set the mug down at an empty seat and poured insistent tea into it.

Lestrade looked up at John, mutely apologetic.

"It's really not necessar-"

"Sit down, John," said Mrs Hudson.

John sat. Lestrade sighed.

"Now, boys," said Mrs Hudson, turning to the worktop, assembling a plate of biscuits as she spoke. "I know your work is very important, but you really must be more careful and not let himself get you into such a state. It does terrible things to my poor old heart to see you boys hurt."

The plate of hobnobs and garibaldis thunked loudly when she set it down on the table. To Lestrade's credit he didn't jump, but glanced at John, disconcerted.

John leaned over to Greg and whispered, "Angry biscuits."

"Ah," said Lestrade, unenlightened.

"Couldn't be helped, Mrs Hudson." John said, contritely apologizing for getting injured. "We had to get the kidnapped children out before the kidnappers-"

"Blew up the building. With you both still mostly inside." Mrs Hudson crossed her arms. "I saw, it was on YouTube."

John very much regretted introducing Mrs Hudson to YouTube.

Lestrade grimaced. "Yes, ma'am, but-"

"Inspector Lestrade," said Mrs Hudson, a note of fire creeping into her voice, "I am not the Queen. If you start 'yes, ma'am'-ing me again-"

"Sorry, sorry, it's a reflex." Lestrade held up his hands in capitulation. "Mrs Hudson, really, there wasn't enough time to wait for the bomb detail. We had to get the kids out while Sherlock was distracting the kidnappers."

John nodded, glad of a sympathetic ally for one of Mrs Hudson's post-case-injury 'tea and worry' sessions, or at least an ally who wasn't Sherlock. Sherlock treated the worries of others like an annoying insect, and tended to react to it all with dismissal at best if not outright scorn, and Mrs Hudson was no exception. Knowing this, Mrs Hudson tended to deliver her dose of distress and worry about Sherlock via John which in the end was nothing but frustrating for everyone involved.

"There really wasn't any time, Mrs Hudson," John said, backing up Lestrade. "We had to rescue the kids. We didn't mean to distress you."

"Absolutely not our intention at all," said Lestrade, holding up a placating hand.

Mrs Hudson looked between the two of them, her expression pinched and tense, but then she relaxed, and sat down.

"Oh, I know," she sighed. "I do know, boys. It's just I worry when I see you haring off, and then when you get hurt, it hurts me. I saw that video of you two running in, and the kids running out but the pair of you getting caught behind when it went off and, and, ooo!" She slapped her hand down on the table. "I just want to hang those kidnappers by their ears!"

Lestrade's eyes widened and he blinked. "Metaphorically speaking?"

"No, no. Actually hang them by their ears," said Mrs Hudson, her usual chipper tone returning slowly. "Though I suppose that's not really practical is it? Ears aren't very sturdy. Thumbs would last longer."

Lestrade glanced at John with a faint expression halfway between amusement and horror.

"We'll have to ask Sherlock once he's back." John smirked and sipped his tea.

Lestrade shook his head and ignored the alarming threats from Mrs Hudson. "I'm a Detective Inspector with the Met. It's not as though I'm walking a beat anymore, but it's still a dangerous job. The chance of injury comes with the badge."

"And with knowing Sherlock," added John, feeling that the worst had passed and it was now safe to invade the plate of angry biscuits, making a selection right-handedly.

"More with Sherlock than the badge, actually." Lestrade grimaced over his mug. "The badge mostly comes with a lot of paperwork. Particularly around Sherlock."

"Not as likely to break any bones, but still might be the death of you," John murmured around a hobnob.

Lestrade inclined his head in agreement. "We're as careful as we can be, with ourselves and the public we serve, but that's not always an option."

"I know. Still, I worry." Mrs Hudson sighed. "Frank and I, we never had children - which was a blessing the way it turned out with the drugs and the execution and all."

"The what?" Lestrade squawked.

"Long story, in America," said John. "Another time."

Lestrade nodded dubiously and took a fortifying sip from his mug.

Mrs Hudson smiled and nodded. "It's just that, well, Sherlock, John and yourself... You're like the sons I never had."

Lestrade spluttered into his tea. "Me? You consider- But- I mean, I understand Sherlock and John being that to you since they're your tenants and live right upstairs from you and all, but I just bring cases and get these two out of trouble! I can't possibly be like family to you!"

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," Mrs Hudson said with a fond smile, patting the Detective Inspector's arm. "Of course you are."

Lestrade looked helplessly at John. John just smiled softly, shrugged his uninjured shoulder, and raised his tea mug in a semi-toast.

"Well," Lestrade said, setting his cup down and staring into it as his cheeks pinkened. "I'm, ah, flattered."

Mrs Hudson patted his arm again and stood. "Now, don't mind me, you boys have your chat about the case and what not. If you'd like more tea or anything, just give me a whistle."

"Thanks Mrs H." John turned to look at Lestrade, who was looking only slightly less stunned than when a building had just been dropped on them. "Alright?"

"Yeah." Glancing up, Lestrade looked back down with a wry grin at his tea. "Your landlady is..."

John chuckled. "Yeah, she is." He awkwardly clunked tea mugs with Lestrade. "Welcome to the family, Greg."

-.-.-  
(that's it)

 **Post Note:** Mrs Hudson's angry biscuits can also be seen in "The Empty Hearse"


End file.
